Imagery
by AsiraK-KarisA
Summary: When reality hits, it hits hard. They were still there, whether he had seen them die or not and it was still happening, whether it was already over of not. It just took certain situations. SAINW


11/16/2013

_So this is my first TMNT thing. Exciting._

_I'm totally blowing off the next chapter of my Young Justice fic for this little one shot, so yeah...I am a terrible person, I know._

_The idea wouldn't go away, so I though 'forget it, I'll just write the stupid thing already.' It isn't long, because that's all I could really squeeze out of the idea, but I think it portrays it pretty ok. Sorry it's a little stupid, I'm not good at describing large amounts of emotion. I think this was a little violent as well, and that's coming from me._

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles**

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**Imagery **

**One-Shot**

There was a sound, ungodly and painful. Donatello lunged forward, not able to comprehend what he was doing. He could only hear Raph's yell and Leo's shout of pain. His body was just moving mechanically on all of the instincts carved into it from years of ninja training.

"Leo! No!"

_"Forgive me, Leonardo."_

Karai was there, aged and weathered just as April was. Gray hair from years of age, wrinkled and scarred skin from years of battle. Her uniform had hardly changed, still bearing the terrible red symbol that had haunted Donatello and his brothers for what felt like infinities upon infinities. She seemed sad, with the bloody katana in her hand. With Leonardo dead in front of her.

Donatello slammed the blunt end of his bow into Karai's neck and she screamed. He kept attacking, even as she fell to the ground, dazed and almost dead. He kept beating her, beating her murderous body until it stopped twitching and trying to retaliate. Karai looked oddly still for such a lively woman, but Donatello didn't blink at the red that was leaking from her wrongly bent spine and how her brown eyes still gazed up at him. The blood from her neck spilled over to mix and bath the katana.

Donatello found it oddly poetic in a romantic sort of way.

Two Karai Bots, each silver and gold respectively, ran for him. Their weapons where drawn and ready, but it didn't matter. Donatello beat them into dark oblivion just the same, reminders of Michelangelo's own death at their hands flashing under his eyes.

Suddenly more were there, hundreds even. Their faces set in a cold stoic expression, never changing as they surrounded him. Donatello didn't falter, slipping by tekkans and chigiriki and kamayari as they swung at him relentlessly.

He couldn't even see his bo as he continued through the crowd. As he darted by more and more Karai Bots fell down, either dead of just unconscious if they were lucky or fast enough. Loud shouts – April's sharp shooting Donatello assumed in a fleeting thought – exploded around him, but Donatello continued on.

Pushing his staff into the exposed temple of a Bot and promptly ignoring how red oozed out from the busted and outwardly surging silver metal, a thought struck Donatello.

Raphael was alive. Michelangelo and Leonardo were not.

Donatello swept his bo staff out around him to clear some personal room, glancing through the crowd to see his last living brother. Ducking under kodachi that had ruefully been aimed for his head, Donatello brightened as he spotted a flash of brown. The newly familiar leather jacket stood out considerably against the silver and gold of Karai Bots and the grays and blacks of what was left of the Shredder's throne room.

"Raphael!"

The red banded brother seemed startled by Donatello's call, but Donatello couldn't even notice. He cleared a path, forcing his way through without mercy. More Bots were scattered around in his path, some flinching even in their broken state.

As if sensing Donatello's return to his last living family member, the Bots cut him off more effectively than before. They piled around the olive skinned turtle, making Donatello lose sight of his second oldest brother.

"Donnie!" The cry was distant but held a note of worry and desperation Donatello had been expert at spotting for years.

Donatello held back his rush of senselessness at the idea of Raphael being in trouble, instead focusing on his fury to help him clear a path again. The Karai Bots had seemed to become harder, giving him more of a challenge to destroy each one and making him waste _time._

Through his bashing of frustration and pent of energy, Donatello felt strangely at peace. Like everything had slowed down.

Watching his staff smoothly destroy each metal replication of Karai made Donatello oddly contempt with his weapon of choice. He had remembered his brothers teasing him for using 'just a stick' and about how 'useless it was.'

Obviously, a bo staff didn't have the metallic grace of a katana or the spiteful power of a sai. It didn't even have the equal destructive energy a nunchuck produced. It was just a carved stick, solid and stern as the tree if came from. But Donatello had been firm with his choice, seeing just exactly how much killing power just the tiny stick held.

It was like surgery. The bo was the scalpel and Donatello was the surgeon, making precise and killing strokes. It was the perfect weapon.

But really any weapon he could use to protect his brothers was perfect.

Donatello aimed towards the arm of a katana holding Bot, listening to the loud _clrunk _as the entire limb flew right off, its golden skin glimmering in the throne room's light before crashing harshly to the ground with a splatter. The Karai Bot seemed to scream as it collapsed, and Donatello felt something sticky and warm sprinkled over his face and plastron.

Hearing a loud pair of footsteps come towards him, Donatello braced himself, holding his bo up instinctively. He froze when he realized that now were left. Part and mechanic bodies lay scattered around the room, a few spots coated with red.

The weight loaded onto his shoulders did not move.

Donatello kept his defensive stance – the one Donatello would have always complained was silly and impractical in an actual battle but was inwardly glad Leonardo had forced him to learn through hours of hard work – spinning around the room with gleaming eyes. Everything felt tinged red and Donatello vaguely wondered if that was how Raphael had felt when he lost control of his temper.

"Don-"

Donatello spun at the voice, thrusting his staff forward as he curled on his heel. A force bashed into the output weapon, throwing it out of his grip. Donatello couldn't stop his cry as his best means of protection clattered on top of a pile of broke Karai Bots. He was left weaponless, with one more fully functional Karai Bot in front of him. His brain didn't stop to wonder why it was red.

Reacting quickly, Donatello tried to throw himself forward, but was stopped when a pair of arms threw themselves around him. They held him firmly as he thrashed, still trying to retrieve his weapon.

"Woah! Donnie, dude, calm down!" The voice that was holding him in place coaxed, surprise evident through the completely out of place California accent. "Bro, it's just us!"

The familiar voice threw his mind, making the genius stop. He blinked, disturbed at how the red Karai's face was twisted and morphed into concern. He blinked more, his vision blurring.

"'Eh Don, ya can calm down. We're all fine. There's none of 'em left." The blurry red and slowly turning green smudge asked, another easily recognizable accent drowning its words to almost completely incomprehendable.

"H-huh?" Donatello managed to stutter out, his attempts for freedom slowing. His stumbled over his own feet, just barely catching his balance as the pair of arms around him let go.

The world, which was a swirling mess of clashing and contrasted colors that was beginning to make Donatello sick, slowly shifted back, becoming sharper and more detail. The purple banded turtle let out a sharp breath as his vision finally returned completely too normal.

The cold and chipped brick replaced what had been an almost spotless cement floor, dark and polluted nighttime New York sky taking over the florescent lit ceiling. Shattered and broken Karai Bots disappeared, with broken and shattered bodies left in their place. Donatello tried to swallow the image of all of the blood, splashed and splattered carelessly over the bodies.

"Wha…what a-about Leo?" Donatello forced his eyes not to look down and confirm if the red blotting the bottom of his sight was exactly what he thought it was. "He was _dead__._" His voice cracked on the word. "_You were all dead._" He whispered. It felt as if his body had gained hundreds and hundreds of pounds within seconds.

Michelangelo stepped into his vision, the normal cheerful turtle's face inked and slack over with concern for his older brother. "Leo's fine Donnie. One of the Shred Head's guys got a lucky hit on him. It'll just leave a scratch on his shell, and you said it yourself. Shell scars aren't as bad a flesh ones. Leo's gonna be totally fine."

"But Karai…" Donatello's brain was struggling, his legs already given up. He collapsed onto the ground, keeping his physically exhausted body up with just his arms.

Raphael raised an eye ridge, leaning down towards his brother. "Don, Karai hasn't been here since the fight started. It was just a team of Foot scouts."

Donatello shook his head, feeling the sweat that slicked his skin now. His hands were numb and shaking. "No, no. Raph, I killed her. I killed her and her father and…" He looked towards the rooftop of unmoving Foot soldiers. His analytical brain told him there was too much blood for most of them to even be alive. It was as if a child had simply painted the entire top with red.

"I…I killed them all, didn't I?" He let out a shivering breath, already knowing the answer.

Neither of his brothers responded, watching the horror spread across his features. Both younger and older knew how precious life was to the young genius, how much he cherished it. They could already see that finding that he had ended so much in a brief loss of control was already beginning to tear Donatello apart.

Donatello tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but gave up after a few tries. "W-where did Leo go?"

He couldn't tear his eyes away from arms and even a few heads that had been forced from their respective bodies, left to roll across the rooftop as Donatello had continued his rampage.

When he didn't get an answer Donatello turned his head to see Leonardo standing there as well, a white bandage wrapped around his entire torso to cover the attack to Foot scrounge had gotten in. He was looking at his second youngest brother with a ruefully sad smile.

"It's ok, Don." Leonardo reassured. Donatello could help but notice one of his katanas were missing. "I'll be fine, it will just scar." He pressed his lips together, avoiding looking towards the rest of the ground. "You didn't mean to."

Donatello took a deep breath, taking in both of Mikey's arms, both of Raph's eyes and the way Leonardo was actually _looking _at him, without any black glass in the way. They weren't tainted, war-hardened or fighting for a losing cause. They were his brothers, just as they should have and forever be. Just the thought put a warm feeling in his swishing stomach and let him breath a little lighter. Feel a little better. It washed some of the sickness that sunk into stomach when he looked at all of the corpses. Leonardo still looked at him concerned, his brown eyes zeroed in on the blood Donatello was sure just coated his front.

He wiped the blood along his plastron, feeling the wetness on his calloused hand. It still sickened him. "Actually, I did Leo. I don't think I would have done anything else."

_ "Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards." _  
_ ― Søren Kierkegaard_

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_Murderous__ and psychopathic Donatello is my favorite kind of Donatello._

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**Review? :)**


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